


Snapshots of Paradise

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2008-04-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Snapshots of a life, a love and a relationship as two individuals both struggle with and cherish their feelings for each other [remus x tonks, viginettes]





	1. A Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

_I know you blanket your mind so much that I am blind,_

_but I, I see you've painted your soul into your guard,_

_I'm all for believing, I'm all for believing_

_I need to know just how you feel, to comfort you; I_

_need to find the key let me in, into your heart, to find your soul._

_\---_ All for Believing, by Missy Higgins

**\---**

“ _I now pronounce you husband and wife”_

A colossal smile graced Remus’ face as he leant in towards his new wife. Thunderous applause echoed as Remus and Tonks shared their first passionate kiss as husband and wife. The sun shone down on Andromeda’s face, and Tonks could see tears, dripping from her mother’s eyes like raindrop. She blinked back a few tears from her own eyes, grinning madly as Remus held out his hand and beckoned her down the aisle.

As they waltzed down the aisle, Tonks’ hair, which she had changed to blonde for the occasion, flashed bright pink. It matched the flower that Mrs Weasley had pinned to her dress. Chuckles erupted from the audience as Remus leaned over and whispered,

“I love you.”

They were only three simple words, but they reflected exactly why she was standing in this garden today. As she reflected on this, she stumbled, (Tonks had never been the most co-ordinated of people, and to her, high heels were a fate worse than the Avada Kedavra) falling. She let out a gasp of surprise, but before she could react any further, she felt a pair of steady hands grab her waist, and looked up to she Remus’ twinkling eyes gazing at her, framed by his shaggy brown hair. He swept Tonks up, and into a kiss that left her feeling breathless. The air was punctuated by wolf-whistles from the Weasley twins as she kissed him back, feeling more liberated than ever before.

**\---**

Later that afternoon, Tonks stood by the punch bowl, her petite yellow dress (She had never planned on wearing anything traditional) illuminated by the glowing sun. She was talking to the Weasley twins, who were both hiding from Mrs Weasley’s gushing comments about how beautiful the wedding was. 

“…can all just sit around in the garden,” Fred was saying, “… and I’ll lock Mum away for at least a month before hand.”

Tonks laughed, the twins’ point of view on life was refreshing, and that cheered everyone up immensely during the war that was raging on around them.

George nodded towards his brother.

“Bloody oath yeah,” he said, “And I’ll …”

He trailed off, because, apparently, the Weasley twins could read each other’s minds.

Tonks shook her head with more laughter, causing many of those mingling around the food tables to glance happily at her and smile.

“What …” she started to ask, but she was interrupted by a sharp pain in her abdomen. Remus had wrapped his arms around her, his vivid yellow tie dangling over her shoulder, and squeezed her stomach hard with his fingers.

He gestured towards a more secluded part of the garden. She nodded, knowing that there was nothing to say, that all she should do was relish the time alone with him. They padded their way to the pond that lay at the back of the garden, Remus’ heavy footsteps the only sound they heard.

In her opinion, Remus was handsome everyday, but today, he looked sexier than ever. Perhaps it was the fact that he was dressed in something a little more stylish than his favourite faded, threadbare jeans and trousers, perhaps it was those little smiles that graced his face every time he looked at her. Whatever it was, Tonks loved it.

They sat together on a rock, overlooking the pond, with was covered with a layer of water lilies and other gorgeous flowers. Tonks was never one for sappiness, but even she had to admit they were beautiful.

Remus and Tonks sat in silence for a while; Tonks fidgeting with her wedding ring and reflecting on how lucky she was to be marrying such a caring man. She felt Remus wrap his arm around her, and she was glad: less sunlight filtered through the thick trees down here and she was kind of chilly. Eventually, he spoke, his voice seeming to haunt the peaceful silence that enveloped them.

“I saw Bill and Fleur going at it over near the present table before,” he said.

Tonks nodded, she had caught the pair going at it several times in various parts of her house during the last few days. Although, she did have to admit, secret snog fests did seem a lot more entertaining than listening to Mrs Weasley, who became irritating after about five minutes in her company these days.

“I know,” she said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Fleur doesn’t pop out a kid before the war is over.”

Remus chuckled in agreement, although some other underlying motion seemed to accompany the sound of amusement.

“It seems strange to think of all this happiness when there are people dying out there, doesn’t it?” she added, glancing at him to gauge his reaction.

He nodded, and Tonks could tell from the dreamy look in his eyes that he was thinking of his best friends. She left him to reminisce, knowing how important it was to him.

“They always said I wouldn’t get married,” Remus said finally, releasing a bitter laugh as he spoke. “They said it was because of the fact that I was a nerdy bookworm, but still, it would have been nice to prove them wrong.”

Tonks patted his shoulder reassuringly.

He smiled gently at her, and Tonks noted the lone tear that dripped from his eyelash, even though he quickly wiped it away and refused to meet her eyes.

“I feel like I let them down by living sometimes … they’ve died, and I’m here getting married, and acting happy.”

Tonks nodded although, having never lost anyone close to her, she struggled to truly comprehend what Remus was going through.

“They love you, and they miss you, and one day … one day you’ll seem them again.”

“I know that … it just feels wrong,” he said, placing his head in his hands.

“This war … you’re fighting it for them, aren’t you?” she asked.

Remus lifted his head and nodded, staring intently at the lilies floating in the pond.

“Trust me,” Tonks said, “somehow, they know.”

She knew it was the least she could say for her new husband. And with that she gestured back towards the crowded party, from which muffled noises where just reaching her ears.

They scrambled through the bushes, and burst out into the clearing, only to notice that several pairs of eyes, all twinkling mischievously, were focussed upon her and Remus.

“Well, well, well,” said the twin that Tonks assumed to be Fred, “What ‘mischief’ have you two been up to?” 


	2. Unwritten

_Feel the rain on your skin_

_No one else can feel it for you_

_Only you can let it in_

_No one else, no one else_

_Can speak the words on your lips_

_Drench yourself in words unspoken_

_Live you life with arms wide open_

_Today is where your book begins_

_The rest is still unwritten_

-Unwritten, Natasha Bedingfield

**\---**

I padded down the hallway, my boots making hardly any noise as they sank into the carpet. I rounded the corner, only to find Remus cramming his wand into his pocket and preparing to Disapparate.

“Where are you going?’ I asked, staring into his chocolate brown eyes, even though I already had an idea.

Remus glanced at me, his eyes flickering wildly.

“Just … just going to see Kingsley,” he stammered, after a long pause.

Merlin’s beard, my husband, was a hopeless liar.

“The battle’s started, and you’re going to fight, aren’t you?” I demanded.

Remus made to say something in reply, his mouth opened like a goldfish, but I cut him off.

“And don’t make just stand there and make excuses.”

“Yes,” he said, with an air of being forced to admit something he’d rather not reveal.

“Yes … I’m going to fight. Voldemort has infiltrated Hogwarts, and the Order needs all the help they can get.

“Then why aren’t you letting me come? I’m a member of the Order too.”

“I could die there.” His voice was matter of fact, as though he had resigned himself to the idea that he might not survive. I wondered how anyone could die, or even think of death without being scared.

“And if you go, you’ll be facing the same fate. Teddy needs you, and if you die, he’s got no-one.”

“Then you’re the one who should stay here.” My voice was calm and collected, but, inside, I was raring for a fight. Remus was far too protective of me for his own good.

“Why?” he asked. I could tell that he really wanted to just go, but that he was going to do everything possible to make sure I stayed behind before he left. As if I was going to listen.

“Because I’m a fully trained Auror … and … and you’re just a werewolf.”

It was a low blow, but hopefully it would show Remus exactly how much I wanted to get out there and fight.

He looked away, and I could see a few lone tears mingling with the strangled expression that marred his face.

“If that’s the way you feel, Nymphadora,” he said, “although I thought I knew you better than that.”

And, with a loud _crack_ , he Disapparated.

**\---**

“I love you.” I whispered, planting a kiss on Teddy’s forehead as he lay, wrapped up in his blankets. He stared back at me with bright brown eyes, so much like his father’s, but other than that he showed no signs of having heard me. 

“Goodbye.”

And, stealing one last look at my son, his bright green hair illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through his bedroom window, I tiptoed out of the room, ignoring the choking feeling in my throat. As I shut the door behind me, I heard a soft sniffling sound; Mum was standing in the hallway, an imploring look flooding her eyes.

“Are you going to fight?” she asked, her voice weary and saturated with underlying emotion.

“Yeah.”

She appeared to be struggling with her response, she seemed to be torn about whether or not to let me go, knowing that I might never come back. Finally, after several tense minutes of staring at me, she spoke.

“You’re a lot like Sirius, you know. He always had to be in the thick of things.” I took that as a sign that she was letting me go.

“If anything happens, look after Teddy for me, will you?”

She nodded, burying her face in the palms of her hands.

“I love you.”

Mum mumbled something in response, but I knew that she cared, and that was all that mattered.

And then I felt that familiar churning sensation, like my stomach was being sucked into my throat, and I was gone.

**\---**

“Tonks!” 

“It’s Lupin now,” I said to Aberforth, waggling my fingers at him and laughing. We’d been friends for years; he had always helped me sneak Firewhiskey into the castle, agreeing with me that, every once in a while, Ravenclaws needed to do more than just study.

“Who’s the lucky man, then? Not Remus Lupin?”

I nodded, ignoring the amazed look that happened across his face.

“Oh … I could tell you stories about him. There was this one time, he came into my pub with Sirius Black, and …”

“Aberforth,” I snapped, a little more harshly than I intended.

“Where is Remus?”

“Through there.”

He pointed to a painting of a little girl with shining blonde hair, laughing slightly as I gazed at him. But then, a tunnel appeared, and he gestured to me to walk through it.

“Here goes,” I said, and I climbed into the tunnel, Aberforth right behind me.

“Tonks!” I was smothered in a blanket of flaming red hair as Ginny leapt at me, her arms flailing widely. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised that she wasn’t fight, as she had said so many times that she wanted to do.

“Harry won’t let me. He’s as overprotective as Mum,” she scowled, and I thanked Merlin that I wasn’t the only one whose man didn’t want them to fight.

I opened my mouth to ask my next question, which was obviously about Remus, but Harry interrupted me, barging through the door.

A voice spoke from the corner, and I realised that there was a another person in the room, a grumpy old lady I recognised from my NEWT days, although I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name.

“Ah, Potter,” she said,

“You can tell us what’s going on.”

I glanced at Ginny, whose face showed just as much anxiousness as mine, and we asked together,

“Is everyone OK?”

“’S far as we know,” Harry replied, but he seemed distracted. “Are there still people in the passage to the Hog’s Head?”

The old lady in the corner, who I now recognised as Neville Longbottom’s grandmother, spoke to Harry again. He said something in reply, and she went speeding off, the vulture perched on top of her hat wobbling precariously.

Harry glanced at me, clearly surprised. ”I thought you were supposed to be with Teddy at your mother’s.”

“I couldn’t stand not knowing,” I replied, trying to keep all the anguish that was starting to seep through me out of my voice. What if he died, and I never got to apologise for my harsh words.

“She’ll look after him – have you seen Remus?”

All I heard were a few key words: ‘fighters and grounds,’ but it was enough to make me scurry off.

**\---**

I sped down the corridor, broken glass and dirt the only testament to the skirmishes that had been taking place. I thought of Remus, who could be down there, battling any number of Death Eaters right now, and I ran faster. 

“Tonks! Look out!” I turn around to see Ginny, who was pointing at something in front of me. Looking up I saw a massive giant, one who looked rather scarily like Hagrid. He was stomping along the corridor, every one of his footsteps booming like thunder. I ran backwards, and Ginny dragged me into a corner. I shuddered at the enormity of him, standing there with my wand raised, as Harry, Ron and Hermione came sprinting out of the Room of Requirement. Ron and Hermione both seemed to be blushing, and I wondered if something had happened between them, the Order had been placing bets and everything, it was that obvious.

Ron and Ginny were shouting at each other, but I couldn’t hear them over the roars of the people fighting below. Then Aberforth ran past, screaming about Death Eaters and Giants, and I took the opportunity to ask him if he’d seen my husband.

“He was duelling Dolohov, but I haven’t seen him since.”

I sprinted off, into the dust.

**\---**

There were more and more people fighting now, as I bolted along the corridors; anguished screams filled the air, and flashes of red and green light were everywhere.

“Remus,” I cried, hoping he would answer, but my voice was lost among the chilling cries. I shot spells left and right, not even bothering to check if they hit their targets. The thump of bodies hitting the ground echoed throughout the dimly lit rooms as I ran, still yelling Remus’ name.

“Tonks!”

Remus grabbed me roughly by the shoulder, dragging me into the nearest broom closet.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, glaring at me.

“I told you, Teddy needs you.”

Outside, there was a ear-splitting bang as something hit the ground, close to the cupboard we were hiding in.

“I couldn’t …” I choked.

“I couldn’t let you go without apologising … I’m sorry for what I said.”

Remus smiled at me, but there was something hidden behind it, like he was wearing a mask that couldn’t quite disguise his true identity.

“There’s a war going on out there, and you risk your life to say sorry?”

I laughed.

“Well I couldn’t have you thinking that I hated you, that you were a stupid werewolf.”

“Well, I’m always going to be a werewolf, and I must have been stupid to marry someone as determined as you.” He laughed as well, and for the first time that night, it seemed natural.

“Not to mention the fact that, if I ever see him again, Sirius is going to tease me about being a sugar daddy.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Remus cut me off, back to his serious state.

“But just because I’m stupid, there’s no excuse for you to be. Go home, and look after Teddy.” I glared at him, crossing my arms and stamping my foot furiously on the ground.

“No.”

He glared back, refusing to drop his gaze.

“Yes.” ”No.” ”Yes.”

“N – holy shit Remus!”

There was a persistent banging on the door; I wrapped my arms around Remus’ waist, as a harsh voice shouted,

“ _Alohamora.”_

A leering face appeared in my vision as the door blasted open, its hinges creaking. There was Dolohov, and my dear, dear Aunt Bellatrix.

“I love you Dora,” Remus whispered in my ear, “but I’m off to see Sirius and James.”

My eyes widened as I realised what he meant, and I grasped his waist even harder.

“NO REMUS!” But it was too late.

“ _Avada Kedavra!”_

Rage tore through me as I scrambled out of the closet, rushing at Dolohov with my hands in front of me. I clawed at every bit of him I could reach; my body trembling and my hair becoming a rainbow of colours as it continually change.

“ _Crucio,”_ cried Bellatrix, and a searing pain shot through my body, I fell, clutching my sides, tears dripping down my cheeks and burning my skin.

“Miss your little werewolf boy, do you?” Bellatrix jeered.

“Does he do it doggy style in the bedroom?”

“You … you evil, twisted, sick bitch,” I panted, letting go of Dolohov and starting to dance around my aunt.

“How dare you?’

“How dare I what?” she replied, sending jets of red light streaming at my as I dodged and ducked.

“How dare I kill your little darling lover boy? That wasn’t me - that was my friend here.”

“THAT’S IT!”

My voice seemed to boom like thunder, even through the screams and shouts of the battle that was raging around us.

“How can you maim people like that, without feeling a thing?” I asked, continuing to dance. I stepped backwards, and tripped, most probably over my own feet. Leering, Bellatrix loomed down over me, her wand at the ready. Damn, I’d always complained my clumsiness was going to be the death of me, and it looked like that statement was coming true.

“Easily,” she said, and I could see her grip on her wand tightening.

“After a while, it becomes second nature, and you feel nothing.” ”Well Bella,” I sneered, sounding a lot more confident than I felt, “I hope you feel this.”

A stream of bright red light burst from my wand, hitting her squarely in the chest. She doubled over in pain, and fell to the ground, hissing,

“ _Avada Kedavra.”_

A blinding flash of light surrounded me, and I could see and hear no more. 


	3. Chocolate

_This could be the very minute_  
I'm aware I'm alive  
All these places feel like home

Tonks sat on the toilet seat, her head rested in her lap, and her body curved gently in an arch, as she stared at the little blue bottle of potion that lay, discarded, but certainly not forgotten.

That stupid, damn, pathetic blue bottle had summed up all her hopes, but also all her fears in one split second. It confirmed that she was pregnant, and in this time, when the world was at war and she and Remus were caught up in the thick of it, it was both a blessing and a curse. She had no maternal instincts, and, no matter what people such as her mother said, would also fight for the good of the world before the good of one little child. It was harsh, but Tonks knew, somewhere deep inside, that it was true.

At the same time, this baby could bring Remus together; it could allow him to focus on something other than the mistreatment of werewolves and that program that he and the Weasley twins were broadcasting. She shifted slightly, removing her gaze from the potion, and realising something.

This baby may bring her and Remus together, and be the bright light on an otherwise dark horizon, but she would have to tell him first. And, no matter how much Tonks loved people, she could always see their faults, understand how they were going to react in certain situations, a trait most probably attributed to Moody and his love of hissing the words, “constant vigilance.”

Remus, he was going to be negative. He would let out a few well chosen words, gape a lot, and most likely bring the age old, “I’m a werewolf, you know what my kind are like,” debate into play.

She stood up, and strode across the room, dimly registering that she and Remus should really re-decorate, make the house a little more vibrant, and possibly cleaner now that there was going to be a baby around.

A baby …

She was carrying life. And, as daunting a prospect as that was, she was invigorated. She was … no, she and Remus were … having a child. A child to buy toys for and wave off to Hogwarts and smile at.

Tonks waltzed around the room, her arms dangling limply by her side, as though she were a marionette with loose strings.

She felt so … alive and free.

Now she just had to tell Remus.

_With a name I'd never chosen_  
I can make my first steps  
As a child of 25

“Dora,” Remus called, as he hung his coat over the conveniently placed hook on the wall. Another coat, and a couple of bags fell to the floor, and he idly waved his wand at them, causing them to spring back up onto the pegs with what seemed a contented flop.

“Dora,” he called again.

In the kitchen, Tonks lifted her head off her hands with a weary sigh. Just because she was a whiz at reading others, she seemed to be pretty horrible at understand herself. Her emotions seemed an intangible fray, one that would never become untangled, or even slightly less confusing.

“Remus,” she called, unable to stop her voice from shaking a little, as he waltzed through the door, a small smile gracing his weary and aged features.

She climbed from the stool she was perched on, and scurried over, planting her lips gently on his. He responded, and she could almost feel what she felt every other day, the release of pent up emotion as they both let go of their fears that the other would not survive the day. It was one of the many horrors of war, the struggle to stay positive and to believe in love.

“Remus,” she sighed happily, all of her fears about pregnancy dissipating with the kiss.

He pulled away, and Tonks could suddenly spot every wrinkle, his face reminded her of an un-ironed shirt, messy, but loveable.

“Remus,” she sighed again, “I think ... no, I am …”

Her mouth opened wider as she went to deliver the final blow, but Remus cut her off.

“You’re … you’re what? Sick? Tired? Or are you doing one of those weird girly things that Sirius told me about where you stutter lots so the man feels sorry for you and you get to fornicate?”

Tonks shook her head wildly, laughing as little tufts of bright pink hair obscured her vision.

“Of course not,” she said, “I’m preg …”

“Pregnant?” Remus screeched, and Tonks was amazed, it was such an out of character display from him, she had expected yelling and rants about love and choices and lycanthropy and the war, but not for him to stand still and screech, whilst wearing the look of a thick and Confunded Death Eater.

“You’re pregnant,” he stuttered, a little more calmly, but it was obvious that he was still stunned and shocked.

“Yes,” she nodded, “Pregnant, as in nine months from now you will be a father pregnant.”

Remus nodded, a little reddish hue returning to his face.

“So,” he said, gesturing randomly around the room, as though he was trying to decide whether to single out the Muggle toaster or the curtains for their predicament. “What are we going to do about it?”

“It being what?”

“It.”

Tonks shook her head, catching sight of herself in the cracked, sullied mirror that hung above the sink as she did so. Screwing up her face, as though disgusted, she changed her hair to a bright, sparking yellow.

“You mean the baby.” Remus nodded again, seemingly unable to stop his head bopping up and down.

“I’m keeping him Remus, and yes, I know it could be a girl, and that there is a fifty-fifty chance, before you open your mouth. I’m twenty-five, for God’s sake, and no, I never thought I would be having a baby at this age, especially not during a war, but it just feels so … natural and right. I want this baby. It’s a part of me, and I’m going to be a part of it.”

“Twenty-five is awfully young to have a baby,” Remus protested, with the air of someone clutching at straws. “And then there’s the Order, they need you, you know how bad the war is getting.”

“Twenty-five is the perfect age to have a baby,” Tonks snapped, resisting the urge to snort at the look of surprise and indignation that crossed his face as she marched out.

_This is the straw, final straw in the_  
Roof of my mouth as I lie to you  
Just because I'm sorry doesn't mean  
I didn't enjoy it at the time

Actually, she wasn’t sure that there was a perfect age to have a baby, despite how meaningful her last attack on Remus had sounded. She could hear him shuffling around the house, his work boots hitting the carpet every time he took a slow deliberate step. He was on exactly the same emotional wave length as her; they were just struggling to connect. A baby bought with it so much more responsibility, not just caring for it, but caring for each other, and for themselves.

Tonks wasn’t really sure of her exact feelings, she knew she was lying, she just wasn’t sure why. Remus was blunt and harsh and had seen so many of his friends die that he knew the exact reality of war, but Tonks had always longed for a day when it was over, longed to start a family with Remus and to live a not quite so soppy version of happy ever after.

She wasn’t quite sure why she was lying; all she knew was that the overwhelming feeling that engulfed her as she did was both satisfying and incredibly horrifying.

_You're the only thing that I love_  
It scares me more every day  
On my knees I think clearer

It was rare, in times of war, for a couple to make it through whole and alive, and just as rare for them to make it through without a fight. She had hoped that she and Remus were two of the lucky ones, two of those lucky people whose love was stronger than the battle that raged around them and smothered them. She loved him, and no-one else, and, as much has he irked her with his odd idiosyncrasies at times, it was unconditional.

There was a loud thud as she dropped to her knees in front of the fire, staring listlessly into the flames

_Goodness knows I saw it coming_  
Or at least I'll claim I did  
But in truth I'm lost for words

Something inside them must have wanted this baby anyway; otherwise they would have been more careful. Tonks had always wanted a baby, but she had never planned on it quite so soon. It was easier to pretend that she had though, to act calm and confident and in control, even though she was really suffering mixed emotions and had no idea exactly how she was supposed to be acting and feelings.

“Remus,” Tonks called; she could hear him, still shuffling around in the bedroom, and she felt a wave of shame wash over her. He padded down the hallway, slight red smudges on his face proving that he had obviously been crying.

“What?” he croaked and Tonks steeled herself for what was to come.

“We’re having this baby.”

Remus looked inquisitively, waiting for more.

She was lost for words.

“Um, look … if we’re going to have this baby, shouldn’t we start preparing.”

It was a diversion, a quick conversation starter so that she could avoid any attempt at giving voice to the thoughts that lay inside her.

_What have I done it's too late for that_  
What have I become truth is nothing yet  
A simple mistake starts the hardest time  
I promise I'll do anything you ask...this time

Remus grinned at her, it was a fleeting grin, lasting a mere second, but it warmed her heart all the same.

“It’s too late to change our minds anyway,” he said, his voice oozing determination, “we’re having this baby.”

“What about a place for it to sleep?” Tonks said, glancing around their tiny flat. “There’s barely any room for us, let alone a baby.”

Her husband laughed, pulling his wand from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Are we, or are we not wizards?”

“You know Mad Eye said you can get your arse blasted off by putting your wand there.”

Tonks’ joke was supposed to lighten the mood, but Remus suddenly looked somber.

“We have no idea what we’re doing, do we?” he mumbled.

“Look, I’ll do anything you ask, you do anything I ask, we’ll be fine. Or ask Molly, she’s raised enough bloody kids that she should have some sort of mothering streak in her and be able to help.”

“Well, will you do this for me?”

“What?”

“Pinch me, so I know it’s not a dream. I’m going to be a father.”

Tonks leant down and gripped Remus’ pale white skin between her fingernails, before tilting her head and smothering him with a big kiss.

Life would never be perfect, but they had each other, and soon, they would have a baby.

 


	4. Grace Kelly

_(I could be wholesome_  
I could be loathsome  
I guess I’m a little bit shy  
Why don’t you like me?  
Why don’t you like me without making me try?)

\--Grace Kelly, Mika

 

The table was set for ten, Remus noticed curiously as he slumped in his seat, his lean fingers drumming irritably against the table, and tried to avoid Molly’s persistent gaze. Just because he was a little thinner and had a few more grey hairs than last time they’d met (a fact Sirius teased him mercilessly about), there was no need for her to pity him the way she was so obviously doing.

The table was set for ten, and yet only nine places were filled: Remus, Sirius, Molly, Arthur, Kingsley, Dorcas, Hestia, Bill and Dumbledore. The werewolf’s greedy brown eyes scanned the room, the analytical side of his mind kicking into overdrive, when Sirius nudged him.

“Moony, old chap,” he muttered, grinning in a way that was all too reminiscent of his pranking days. Arrogance littered his slightly hollowed and sunken face. There were some things that would never change about Sirius Black, and Remus knew that was one of them.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s this girl …”

“I take it then,” Remus said, turning his body away from Molly, whose demeanor was far too casual, easily proving that she was listening in, “that you don’t remember the last time you tried to set me up, fifteen years ago.”

Sirius shrugged, and Remus tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness, before adopting a satirical tone.

“Hang on, you hit unconscious on the Booze Scale, while I stammered around at ‘pissed as a mute,’ leaving you to sleep through most of the part where I gave that girl the full ‘I’m a werewolf’ speech before being sick on her shoes.”

“And that is exactly what I told you to drink more of the punch. Then you could have risen to ‘gone with the wind’ and pushed her into a broom closet, avoiding all that touchy feely stuff.”

He was only joking of course, for all his reputation at Hogwarts (most of which resulted from rumours started by the Marauders themselves), Sirius definitely was not the type to do _anything_ amongst musty old coats or leaking bottles of cleaning supplies.

“Anyway, this girl, she’s different. She’s actually my-“

The rest of Sirius’ sentence was lost to a deafening bang as the kitchen door slammed shut. Screeches echoed from the hallway; Kingsley scurried off to shut the stupid old hag up before everyone succumbed to her torturous voice. Remus wondered absentmindedly how Sinus had lived with that thing for as long as he had, turning to look at the newcomer as he did so. His mouth fell open in shock.

This person certainly was going to be inconspicuous on Order missions, that much was sure.

**\--**

“Close your mouth, Remus. The Goldfish look is _so_ over.”

Remus complied, more out of an automated response than anything else. This girl (who she was, Remus did not have a clue), was definitely a walking fashion disaster, before anything else was taken into consideration. She had bright pink hair that clashed horribly with her orange t-shirt, and an attitude that clearly shouted “mess with me and I’ll kick your arse.” Remus was often chided by Sirius for wearing the sort of cardigans that an old grandfather would wear, but at least he didn’t walk through London dressed like _that._

Surreptitiously, Remus poked Sirius’ knee with his wand.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“That’s actually my-“

“Sorry I’m late Dumbledore,” the girl said, sliding into the vacant seat beside Arthur, who greeted her with a warm smile. “Some stupid interdepartmental thing got blown out of proportion, and you all know what that means when Mad Eye’s your boss.”

A chuckle broke out around the table, as Remus tried to remember exactly where he’d seen someone this colourful before.

“No trouble at all Nymphadora,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling as he grinned at her.

“It’s Tonks,” she replied curtly, words flying from her mouth like bullets. “I believe we discussed this enough times over the years in your office.”

“Ah, your head of house did enjoy referring you to me in regards to your behaviour.”

Dumbledore stood up, gesturing to everyone that conversations should cease. His beard glowed against the derelict grey walls of the kitchen, complete with its fraying curtains and duty bench tops. He began to detail the latest recruitment plans, but Remus, always the attentive listener at school while his friends drew pictures of Snape suffering from various hexes, was too busy attempting to remember exactly when he’d heard the name Tonks before to listen.

He gave Sirius another poke when the meeting was over, hoping to ask his friend.

“Padfoot.”

“What? Hang on, Moony, interrupting a lecture. How could you? It’s hypocritical.”

“Whatever. Look, where have I heard the name Tonks before?”

“I tried to explain this already,” Sirius replied, exasperated. “She’s my-“

“Wotcher. You’re Remus, right?” said a voice from behind him.

“Yeah … I um … I like your hair.” Seriously, what else was he supposed to say to such a girl?

“Thanks,” Tonks replied, unabashed. “Is that your best attempt at flirting?”

“What? Flirting?”

Tonks laughed, dragging him out of his chair and into the lounge, where everyone else was beginning to gather for a cup of coffee (or something a lot stronger).

“I was only joking,” she laughed. “Merlin, you’re nearly as hopeless and anal as Sirius said you were. I didn’t believe him until now.”

“Sirius?” Remus asked, before muttering under his breath, “Nice of him to share the fact he knew you with me.”

“Yeah,” Tonks said, a grin gracing her face for reasons that Remus couldn’t understand. “He said that you were quite anal and uptight, and that you’d try to flirt with me but be hopeless at it. Lovely friend, isn’t he?”

“Flirting? That wasn’t flirting.” Or maybe, now that Remus thought of it, he had been flirting. Since when was he the type to compliment a girl on anything more than her taste in literature? He certainly couldn’t remember commenting on a girl’s hair in … God knows how many years.

“Anal, indeed. Maybe Sirius was right about something, after all.”

“Anal. How dare – Hang on. I know where I remember your name from. You’re Sirius’ second cousin. I met you when you were about five. But didn’t you have blue hair then?”

Remus waited for a response, but she said nothing. Instead, she screwed up her nose, and her hair rapidly changed from the pink spikes she originally wore to a long, flowing blue hairstyle.

“You’re a Metamorphagus?”

Tonks nodded proudly, before she noticed that Remus was no longer focusing on her, but on something over her shoulder.

“What are you looking at? Oh, it’s Sirius. Hopefully you’re better at fighting than flirting, because otherwise, he’d snap you in one go.”

Screw flirting, or fighting for that matter, Remus decided. This girl was more annoying than James on a Lily-trip.

“Sirius,” he called, threading his way through the group of people, which had grown steadily larger as Remus and Tonks had talked. Or was that flirted? He avoided Molly’s knowing eye, which he’d last seen as she watched Bill talk about the new French girl he’d met at work. “Nice of you to tell me that not only did you know Tonks, you were related to her.”

“Did you flirt with her?”  
”What,” Remus asked through clenched teeth, “is with everyone thinking we’re flirting?”  
”Well, obviously you didn’t throw up on her feet, and I’ve already told her you’re a werewolf, so I guess you’re doing well so far.” Sirius patted Remus on the back, eyes gleaming, until Remus threw his hand off.

“Tonks is the girl you were trying to set me up with?” he said, finally understanding.  
’Yeah.” Sirius didn’t look the slightest bit shameful. “She’s going to be good for you, I can see it.”  
”Sirius Orion Black, you are-“Remus trailed off, interrupted for the umpteenth time that day.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re endearing, despite how much you suck at flirting.”

Remus just nodded in reply; it felt like his heart was lodged in his throat. He turned back to Sirius, took one look at his friend’s face, and groaned.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

 


	5. Apologise

_(I'd take another chance, take a fall_  
Take a shot for you  
And I need you like a heart needs a beat  
but it's nothing new

_I loved you with a fire red-  
Now it's turning blue, and you say...)_

\--Apologise, Timbaland

She’s too close to the fire, it’s too harsh, too warm, and yet Tonks cannot bring herself to move. Her brown tresses linger in her eyes (they’re a dull grey today), dank and putrid, forming curtains between Tonks and the outside world. Pregnancy was supposed to be the most beautiful time of a woman’s life, and yet here she is: fat, depressed and drowning in a sea of chocolate bar wrappers, a rainbow brighter than she is herself.

Then again, Nymphadora Tonks was never one for clichés.

Sometimes she wonders where he is: _did he find Harry? Did he meet a Death Eater? Did he …?_ And then all of Tonks’ _what if’s_ and _could he’s_ and _maybes_ become tangled in her mind, and she unwraps another chocolate bar with her fumbling fingers and lights another cigarette, damp from a ceaseless shower of tears, allowing her questions to fade away with the plumes of ash and leave but one query: _is this insanity?_

It must be.

Occasionally, Tonks moves, but every room in this house is oozing Remus, and she can’t bear to loiter too long. For once she wishes she had allowed her father to buy her a Muggle television when she moved in with Remus, because nothing sounds more appealing right now than losing herself in a soap opera where everything is hunky dory within half an hour of the crisis. God knows how long it will be until she pieces her life back together.

Once, they spent evenings reading picture books to Teddy and discussing life, and now Remus is gone and she spends all her time dozing in the lounge chair, a pale hand resting upon her swollen stomach and a chocolate bar or bottle of Firewhiskey in her hand.  
”It’s bad for the baby,” Andromeda insists every time she visits, as she attempts to pry away the temptation but Tonks never listens, because this is her mother talking, and look at how her daughter’s behaving right now.

She remembers the last time he left her, dissipating into a cloud of excuses: _‘too old, too poor, I’m a werewolf Dora.’_ And then she sobs, because he used that ridiculous nickname back then long before marriage and babies and desertion appeared in the crystal ball. Back when it was just two entwined bodies both aching over the death of a friend. Well now there’s marriage and a baby on the way and a lot more deaths to mourn and he’s left her alone.

Sometimes, the cynical side of Tonks drags itself through her like a tornado and tears at her already fragile heart, whispering _‘maybe you shouldn’t have given him a second chance’_ Two glasses and seven gulps of Firewhiskey later (who gives a damn about glasses at a time like this), the voice is replaced by a splitting headache and she’s started in on the chocolate bars again.

The question lingers though: _should she have given him a second chance?_

**\--**

Threadbare fabric scrapes carpet as Remus paces the hallway in Grimmauld Place, melted chocolate trickling from the wrapper that is pressed tight into his palm. He walks, and he walks, and he thinks he should go back to Dora, and yet he doesn’t. And then his legs throb and he feels like the world is spinning and he collapses into a chair and wishes Sirius was here.

Remus needs a god damn slap, and a hard one, because weary bones and endless coffee pouring over his tongue and sliding down his throat is not enough to stop the thoughts of _I should of,_ and _why didn’t I_ and _what if;_ they’re almost ceaseless, they run a marathon in his mind and then they rest and start up again, tracing the same route over and over again. Sirius would slap him and screech at him and then try and pour Firewhiskey down his throat until Remus’ protests were muted.

It aches.

He wants a book, or something, because this is one time when loosing himself in another world sounds wonderful. Instead, he falls off the cliff into memories, and they catch him, but they dig their claws in, prying into his very soul. But he’s read the Dark Arts books a million times, and they are sending him insane, to the point where he can almost see blood spurting from his chest as he waves a wand. So Remus sits, the harsh aroma coffee itching his nose and burning his lips, with one hand against the floo powder, his ticket home, and the other against his leg, moist and taut from too much walking.

He thinks it’s only a few days until New Year, but he can’t think of a useful resolution, so instead he sits and dreams. Remus remembers her too, as his body becomes entangled in sheets at night, her favourite time; he can smell her shampoo, taste her lips, and hear her voice whispering tantalizingly to him. It’s things like this that led to her protruding stomach and the fight that drove the stake into his heart, and yet he dwells on it. And then her tone changes and he can feel her floating through him, a spirit: _why did you? How could you? I hate you. I gave you a second chance …_

Sometimes, he just wants to laugh, because Sirius says that laughter is life and Remus really doesn’t feel alive right now. But there’s nothing to laugh at, and the chocolate sucks at telling jokes, so he devours it with all the passion that he can muster and then flops into the chair or pads into the hallway again. His entire existence is contained within these four walls, and the only company is a screeching portrait whose entire life is dedicated to making others miserable, and right now, Remus doesn’t exactly need any help with that.

He’s fighting the words inside his mind, and when he eventually fades off into a hazy sleep, sometime in the wee hours of the morning when night has gone but dawn hasn’t punctured the sky, Tonks’ voice echoes: _I gave you a second chance … I gave you a second chance … I gave you a second chance …_

**\--**

It’s exactly one month, three weeks, four days, eighteen hours and seventeen minutes after Remus Lupin marched out of Nymphadora Tonks’ life that he waltzed back into it. Not so much waltzed as limped in with wounded pride and an air of broken dreams surrounding him, but he came back, and Tonks could do nothing but stare. His eyes bored into hers, brown upon grey, and they both winced because separation was harsh and contact was harsher still, especially after so long with only a hastily draining bottle of alcohol and a few limp cigarettes by their side.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late to apologise, Remus.”

The first words in nearly two weeks and there’s no fanfare, which rather takes Tonks by surprise, because as many times as this scenario has been played out on the stage in the pantomime that is her mind, never did this resolution occur. Apologies are rather pointless, because all they do is add to the confusion and cover up what went wrong. They send her insane, and she’s had enough of wondering about that lately.

She lights yet another cigarette and unwraps yet another chocolate bar, collapses onto the couch and lets words and ideas whisper to her, drifting along on the feint winter breeze that blows spirals of smoke into her eyes and causes her to cough. Eventually, the right phrase settles upon her lips, and it fits perfectly.

“You did what you did, it’s over, ok.”

There’s no point in fighting, there’s a child in her stomach and a war closing in on them, and what should be the happiest time of their lives is a scissor stroke away from being cut and discarded. Remus is confused, because he stormed out and left her, and judging by the fact that the floor is completely hidden from view by rubbish and the air reeks of stale bread and alcohol, she hasn’t been doing very well. Yet, her reaction …

“You’re not mad at me?” It’s such a childish thing to say, and yet he has to reassure himself because this is Tonks, the girl he’s always wanted and never had until now. Remus begins to pace again, because it’s deeply engrained these days that the sound of footsteps and the feeling of functioning muscles are nothing more than life itself.

“Of course not. Man, this is like when we met, you’re so damn scared of girls.”

“Hey! Just because I didn’t quite realise that I was flirting doesn’t mean a thing.”

“Well I gave you a chance, and then another one and I’ll give you another one now.”

“Thanks.” It was nowhere near enough to express feelings but the words that littered his brain would not dislodge themselves through his mouth, and he supposed he didn’t always have to live up to Sirius’ opinion of him: _Mr. Eloquent, the Man Who Has a Dictionary Shoved Up His Arse._

Besides, when Tonks leaned in and he leaned in and the baby (he still couldn’t believe that he was going to be a father, no matter how much seven god damn weeks of being haunted by Sirius and a maniacal portrait had changed his outlook on _this_ , on everything) accidentally bumped against his chest, no-one could care less what Sirius thought, anyway.

 


	6. Memories of You

_(Here and there, everywhere,_  
scenes that we once knew.  
And they all just recall  
memories of you.)

\--Memories of You, Bette Midler

“ _I never knew Remus and Tonks that well, but Andromeda has asked me to speak today, and while it’s definitely not an honour to be up here, given the circumstance, I’m proud to be the friend of these fine people. I doubt that Remus and Tonks knew how much they meant to us all. Remus was so much more than just a teacher, he gave so many people courage and inspiration, helped us all to become better people. I can honestly say that he was the best teacher I ever had. Tonks was just infectious, her happiness helped everyone through the dark, and I know how much Remus loved her for it. We should thank them, because as much as we mourn their deaths, they’ve helped us make it to this point. I know that doesn’t mean much now, because I understand tragedy as much as anyone, but it’s something. Remus and Tonks meant so much to us all, because of who they were as people, and because of their spirit._

“ _If this were any typical eulogy, I’d be standing here, talking about how much Remus and Tonks meant to me, and how they were loving parents, devoted Order members and cherished friends, in much more depth than I have today. But I’m not good at speeches, and you already have your memories, some of which are obviously better than others. Memories, they’re the important things. I never knew my parents, but I have a photo album, and there’ was days where that’s the only thing that kept me alive. This isn’t about me, obviously - no matter how much Rita Skeeter would pay for an exclusive – but memories are important. They may not be alive in body anymore, but they’re alive in our minds for as long as we remember them._

“ _Both Remus and Tonks meant a lot to me, and I don’t want to forget them. You shouldn’t either.”_

**\--**

Harry stopped and stared at the crowd, silently willing each and every one of them to listen to his plea. Little Teddy was not going to grow up the way he had; Harry knew very little of being a godfather, but that was the one rational responsibility that he could understand. A mixture of sobs, applause and discussion of his speech resonated throughout the garden as he walked down the aisle and slid into a seat beside Ginny, who quickly wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He hadn’t realised how much he was shaking until now, but there was a glowing sense of something, not so much pride as achievement, he’d encouraged people to remember the good times they had with their friends.

On his other side, Hermione sobbed, the tears wracking her body and falling into her lap. Everything was hazy, and all Harry could hear was the pitiful moans of Andromeda Tonks. He’d always thought her a strong woman, but this … he guessed that there were some things that no-one could shrug off bravely, and the aftermath of war was one of them.

“Great speech,” Ginny whispered to him, her breath warm against the side of his neck. “Poor Hermione was bawling throughout, and so was Andromeda.”

There were many jokes Harry could have made, but he bit his tongue because a somber silence was wrapping itself around the party – not that the mood was anything of the sort – of people assembled in the garden and the minister was beginning to speak. Harry didn’t take in much of it, too absorbed by the sight of Remus and Tonks’ coffins being lowered into the ground: he couldn’t believe that this was how two such vibrant, spirited people were going to end their life, burying under a mound of decaying brown dirt. It didn’t seem fitting.

Beside him, Ginny shifted slightly in her seat, and Harry had to admire her for being here to support him. Fred had been buried yesterday, and he had sat beside her, wiped the tears from her eyes and struggled with exactly how much pain she was in. Today, she was doing the same for him.

After the service, Andromeda Tonks came up to him, a bawling Teddy in her arms, and patted him on the shoulder. It was an awkward gesture, as though so long without the touch of a caring family member had left her unsure about physical contact.

“I just wanted to thank you,” she sniffled; tears dripped from her chin into Teddy’s hair, soaking the unruly blue locks that looked so out of place amongst the garden and the sea of black robes. “I couldn’t have done it, they were everything to me, they …”

Andromeda trailed off, mopping at her eyes with her sleeve, which was already sodden.

“Would you like me to take Teddy?” Harry asked quickly, noticing that she was struggling to balance the newborn and pat her face dry at the same time.

“Thanks Harry,” she muttered, before a fresh wave of tears cascaded over her eyelashes and smeared themselves across her skin. For all the resemblance between Andromeda and her sister, Harry could safely say that no-one would ever see Bellatrix Lestrange looking this vulnerable, this _human._

“It’s just so hard,” she gulped, her words lining the spaces between weeping and hiccupping; she was forcing them out, forcing herself to tell Harry just how much his speech meant to her. “They were my daughter and my son in law, and I loved them, but you … you saw the real them. You saw Dora fight to the death as an Auror, you saw Remus as a friend of your father’s and as a teacher. I’ve got memories, but it’s not enough. Memories can’t bring people back.”

Andromeda’s hands tore wildly at his robes; she pulled Harry towards her, longing for closeness and for someone to reassure her that it was going to be okay. He couldn’t do that, there were no more places in this world for false hope, no matter how much you wanted to believe in it, believe in something, in anything.

“Memories won’t bring them back,” he agreed, “but it keeps their spirit alive. That’s what I loved about your daughter, Mrs. Tonks; I think she had such great spirit.”

**\--**

And, that afternoon, as Harry laid flowers on their grave, he couldn’t help but whisper, “Remus, Tonks, wherever you are, we’ll always remember you.

 


	7. Our Time Now

_(This is the dance for all the lovers_  
Takin' a chance for one another  
Finally it's our time now  
These are the times that we'll remember  
Breaking the city's heart together  
Finally it's our time now  
It's our time now)

\-- Our Time Now, Plain White T’s

Molly Weasley’s face crumpled in shock. The envelope (fresh parchment embossed with the seal that both enthused and mystified so many eleven year olds) lay face up on the table.

“They flew out on their brooms,” she screeched, her mouth opening and closing as though she was struggling to breathe, something which, given the situation and the fact that Molly looked like she’d spent a summer outdoors, wouldn’t actually shock Remus that much.

“Well, they have got spunk, I would have liked an exit like that – not that I’m saying what they did is right Molly, not at all – instead of some stupid graduation ball.”

Tonks sat beside Molly at the table, petite hands clasped around a steaming mug of coffee, despite the fact that sweat rained down her face from the horrid summer heat. Remus and Sirius, who were perched on her other side, both struggled to stuff the laughter that dribbled from their mouths back in. Other Order members didn’t even make an effort to control themselves; hilarity wracked their bodies as Molly’s face sped from indignation to disbelief and back again.

“When I get my hands on them …”

“I take it you got the letter then.”

Remus couldn’t help but giggle at that one, almost choking on his Firewhiskey; Tonks was right: they did have spunk.

A second later, there was another deafening boom as George landed beside his brother, his body hunched and shaking with laughter.

“I wish we’d stayed to see Umbridge’s face,” he moaned, but it was half-hearted, the grin betrayed any seriousness he could have possessed.

“No you don’t,” Molly warned, “I’m incredibly disappointed in you all. We’ll leave it for now –“she glanced towards the present company, obviously not wanting Sirius to play any part in disciplining her children “- but you will be punished.”

Fred and George nodded, waiting for her to stomp off into the kitchen and start making cups of tea before they burst into simultaneous laughter, running around the table and high-fiving everyone.

Tonks let out a hearty giggle, leaning over Remus as she made wild grabs at the packet of biscuits in the middle of the table. Remus wondered why she didn’t just raise her wand, if stretching was _that_ much of an effort. He caught a quick glimpse of her … her … (what term should a man of his age use?), fragile beneath her flowery, silky shirt. His heart thudded inside his chest, so strong he was afraid it would burst through his ribcage and he couldn’t help but stutter as Fred asked him what he thought of the swamp story that he’d barely listened to.

“Sounds fabulous, Fred – George – I can’t damn well tell you apart.”

_What the hell was this feeling? And was it … was it caused by_ her?

**\--**

“So,” George said later that evening, scraping the last forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, and raising his voice of the clatter of plates and cutlery, “we should have a party.”  
He said this with a chaste wink at Remus, who simply stared back bewildered. George then began to flick his head back and forth as though he was suffering a seizure, his eyes darting between Remus, Tonks and Fred. Remus supposed this was supposed to mean something, after all, he’d seen James and Sirius do it in regards to Lily Evans enough times.

_Oh …_

He got it now. George wanted him to _make a move_ on Nymphadora Tonks, as crude as that sounded. Remus couldn’t deny it, she did … something … to his heart, and he liked her. Liked her a lot. But he was a damn werewolf, and his last girlfriend had been fourteen years ago, before _it_ all happened. What the hell was he supposed to do?

“A party,” Molly snapped, meandering in from the kitchen where she’d been hurriedly organising trays of Butterbeer. “George Fabian Weasley, need I remind you how much trouble you’re in?”

“Grounded for life, no more joke products – such a shame, that’ll make opening the shop hard – and … that’s all,” he recited in a monotone. Neither Remus or Tonks doubted that they’d find a way around Molly’s rules in days; Remus had, after all, taught them once, and he remembered their plans to blow up a toilet seat all too well. They could be this generations Marauders, although he certainly wasn’t going to be encouraging them to become Animagi any time soon.

“J-j-oke shop?”

“Oh yeah, about that Mum … you see, we happened to acquire quite a bit of money recently, and we’ve now come about premises in Diagon Alley. Hence, dear Fred and I are planning to open our own joke shop. We’ve already got first hand endorsements and testimonials from those who witnessed the swamp we set loose in the corridor, so business is already booming …”

Molly Weasley’s face constricted; the entire table could see the veins in her neck bulging as she struggled with her emotions.

“Fred, George, upstairs now.”

Removing the twins from the room didn’t dull the sound of the argument; the house shook so much that Remus decided it was probably a good thing Muggles didn’t know the house existed, because they’d be onto their council with noise complaints by now. The rest of the group hastily excused themselves, promising to be back for the party – it was certainly going to be an event and a half, possibly not the highlight of the year, but certainly a hoot.

Remus, Tonks and Sirius sat at the table, watching Fred and George hang streamers by making them shoot around the room with their wands (although why Molly thought that supervision was helpful in this case, Remus didn’t understand).

“They really are quite the pranksters, aren’t they?” Tonks commented, grinning at Remus and winking. He couldn’t help but shudder at that, not because he thought her repulsive but because of the lump that seemed to spring to his throat at the sight of her.

“Nah,” Sirius replied. “No-one has _anything_ on Moony here.”

Remus glared at Sirius; his friend knew exactly how much he detested the nickname in company. It had become somewhat a replacement for his real name during his years at Hogwarts, when being a werewolf was no more daunting than NEWTS (and even so, they were rather daunting), but know, it seemed so out of place in a world where he was attempting to hide exactly what he was.

“Remus? A prankster? What are you high on?”

Tonks leaned over and punched Remus playfully, but that didn’t stop Remus’ skin tingling where her knuckles had brushed against it.

_She didn’t mean anything by it. She didn’t mean anything by it. She didn’t mean anything by it …_

“No, I’m serious. It was Remus who came up with the prank that we affectionately nicknamed ‘James Potter and Sirius Black, you will be cleaning up this mess for eternity and don’t grin at me like that.’”

“That was its _nickname?”_ Tonks was obviously skeptical about the idea of Remus being interested in anything more than books and coffee.

“Sadly,” Remus replied. “I came up with the plans, mixed the gender change potion _and_ set everything up, and then Sirius here came barging into the toilet cubicle and managed to spill the whole lot on Moaning Myrtle. I had no idea that worked on ghosts, but –“

“But he took full responsibility of course, and still got away with it because he was an ickle prefect, while James and I spent a month shoveling dung with Hagrid. He still laughs at me occasionally.” Sirius made a face that showed he was anything but angry at his best friend, no matter how callous his voice was. Petty little things like that seemed a lifetime ago, memories that were someone else’s, Remus almost felt that he was living in another mind, one where death was a fair more common occurrence than laughter.

Who cared about a silly prank and a ghost that was dripping in a sultry purple substance when so many people had died, and now … now there was Tonks and something so strong inside his heart? Her very essence seemed to be flowing through his veins, swimming as strong and fast as a fish in the sea.

**\--**

The party was in full swing by mid-afternoon. Miraculously, Fred and George had gotten hold of copious amounts of Firewhiskey and Butterbeer, not to mention the decorations. Remus didn’t want to mention it, but he wondered how the hell they could afford everything, what with the Weasley’s financial status. They were barely richer than him, and there was nine – no, eight, no, nine -of them.

“This is the life,” Sirius muttered, leaning across the table and grabbing his umpteenth bottle of Firewhiskey. “Don’t you agree Remus?”

His best friend was too busy staring at a certain pink haired Auror to answer.

“Huh? Wha – oh, yeah, it’s great,” Remus said with little enthusiasm, something which even Sirius picked up on, despite how close he was to a state of complete and utter inebriation.

“You’re kidding me. You’re mooning – no pun intended – over Nymphadora Tonks, my little cousin. And yes Remus, I know she’s my second cousin, but I’m not one for details … Everyone knows you want to -” Sirius dropped his voice to a conspiring whisper, although whether it was to make sure others could not overhear the conversation or to make Remus feel even more uncomfortable, no-one could be sure – “snog her senseless, so why not use this as an excuse.”

“That’s just it,” Remus said. “I want to kiss her, but what if she doesn’t want to – ouch!”

Sirius had delivered a backhand slap to Remus’ head; many of the Order members mingling around the food tables glanced up in surprise, before shrugging; they were used to the indescribably strange friendship Remus and Sirius shared.

“She loves you Moony. The whole leaning over you thing, that I saw you rolling your eyes at, that’s flirting. And I really doubt you need reminding of the first time you met, _or_ your hangover the next day.”

“Fine,” Remus muttered, even though he still had no plans whatsoever to tell Tonks anything. “But if she’s flirting with me, why can’t she make the first move?”

“You really don’t understand, do you?”

**\--**

Remus stumbled over to Tonks, who was swaying to the music by herself.

_Remember, if Sirius is right, she loves you …_ If _Sirius is right …_

“Ca-re todance?”

She didn’t appear to hear him at first, and Remus’ irrational side began shooting arrows into his mind, telling him to give up, that it was all fruitless and that Sirius was wrong and deserved to be ignored when he woke up with a splitting headache in the morning after passing out on the floor, as was his custom.

“What?” she asked finally, spinning around to face him, her pink locks trailing behind her and her heart-shaped face contorted into a colossal grin, “I’m sorry Remus, I didn’t hear you?” She nodded apologetically in the direction of the radio, which was pouring out music like a flood. “Damn music. The twins have good taste though.”

“It’s the Weird Sisters, right?”  
”Yeah. You know, Remus, you’re full of surprises. I never thought you’d like them.”

Remus nodded, trying not to reveal that he had, in fact, only learnt of their music because of Tonks, though he had developed a liking for it quickly, something which didn’t impress Sirius, who labeled it ‘pansy music.’

“Care to dance?”

As least he was comprehensible this time, if not exactly what one would call eloquent.

“You … you want to dance with _me?”_

_Oh great, Sirius really was wrong … damn dog …_

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course.”

She smiled again, and he felt his heart flutter yet again, wondering if it was possible to love someone as much as he loved Tonks. He held out his hand, eternally thankful that Lily Potter had insisted on him having dancing lessons before he took her best friend to the graduation ball. Together, they waltzed onto the dance floor; Remus was wincing, partly because he could feel both Molly and Sirius’ eyes on his back, and partly because Tonks’ feet seemed to be the one part of her that she could not control.

“Ouch,” he mumbled through clenched teeth.

Hesitantly, he placed his arms around her waist, panicking as to whether his hands were too high or too low, and reveling in her scent. She smelt like a mixture of coffee, firewood and cigarette smoke – a smell which he usually detested, and yet he could not help but beam as if wafted off her neck in waves. Gently, they side-stepped back and forth, Remus staring constantly at the floor and watching Tonks’ feet clumsily stumble back and forth.

As they danced along, weaving in and out of the other couples (including Molly and Arthur, who had obviously put aside their disgust with the twins’ party), Remus couldn’t help but become more confident. Maybe it was the Firewhiskey, maybe it was the fact that they’d been dancing for five minutes already and Tonks had done nothing more than grin at him, but he suspected that, somehow, it was more than that.

He let go of her hand, taking pleasure in the way her skin felt against his as he began to dance around her, using moves that Sirius had perfected back in their seventh year. Remus continued to twist and spin, dancing in intertwining circles around Tonks. Her brown eyes, deep and chocolate-coloured, followed him curiously, flickering between hilarity and confusion as Remus’ rather pathetic attempts at dancing became noticed by the crowd; Tonks could hear Kingsley making remarks about how werewolves were meant to be manly, but Remus didn’t seem to notice.

“Stop dancing around me Remus,” Tonks snapped, glaring at the werewolf, whose was spinning around her in circles – although they were more like dilapidated egg shapes, because jiving was obviously not a forte of Remus’ – as though he was unable to decide whether he wanted intimacy or for a wall to exist between them, a barrier to separate them.

“Literally or figuratively?” Remus grinned. “We all know you hate the fact that I avoid you. Sirius told me.”

If there was ever a time to let his inner Marauder shine through, this was it.

“Both, it’s rather – Remus John Lupin, do not change the subject. That’s exactly it, you dance around me, you lead me on, and then you do this, and you’re so damn infuriating.”

“Tonks, this is hard for me. You don’t know, do you, no-one’s ever told you … I like you a lot, but-“

So much for being a Marauder. One minute in, and he was bailing out, making feeble excuses and shaking with nervousness. If Remus wasn’t quite so worried about what Tonks had to say, he would have been ashamed of himself.

“Oh you mean the fact that you’re a _werewolf?”_ Tonks’ voice, which had risen louder and louder with every word, suddenly dropped to a low hiss and Remus, who was still dancing around, more out of shock and nervousness then any attempt to be close to her now, thought she could rival Salazar Slytherin for a snake-like voice and Lily Evans when it came to intimidating men.

He was vaguely aware of the eyes on him, but he shrugged them off; it was rather disconcerting being the centre of attention.

“How did you know? Did Sirius tell you?”

“Of course not, _Moony._ Contrary to popular belief, people aren’t dumb. They have eyes and know perfectly well how to read a calendar.”

“Must you share the fact that I’m a monster with everyone?”

“What, they’ve all known for ages – some of them years – they just didn’t say anything because they were afraid of your reaction. So far, I’m finding it more irritating than scary though.”

“They _knew?”_

“Of course.” Tonks’ voice had faded to one tone above a whisper, as though the conversation was suddenly taking a more personal route. Remus was still bewildered over how many people knew about his condition. He’d tried to keep it a secret, but obviously, secrets didn’t work too well around Aurors; he should have expected it, damn Moody and his stupid _constant vigilance._

“You see, the point is, you like me, I like you, it’s a match made in heaven, and yet we’re standing here, debating it.”

Remus gaped at her; such thoughts had often crossed his mind, but to hear them out loud was rather perplexing.

“We’re colleagues, Tonks, and friends, not to mention the fact that there’s a war, and I damn well love you, even though I’m a werewolf.” He slapped a hand to his mouth, curses streaming through his brain and striking his heart: had he really said _that_ in front of everyone?

“I love you too, Remus, but you don’t love yourself. That’s the problem. You’re so worried about being a werewolf –“ Tonks spat the word out venomously –“that you can’t see beyond that. You can’t understand that you’re a fierce friend, or that you’ve got quite the sense of humour behind that nerdy exterior.”

“I … I … okay … I see.” A thousand and one different sentence starters chased the cursing through his head (though they were dissipating quickly – Tonks _loved_ him), and not a single one could convey the relief or the anxiety that her statement conjured in him. Remus took his wand from his back pocket, fingering it gently as though it held the answer to every question the world had ever asked.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Tonks was being rash, it was obvious from the slight twinges of uncertainty in her tone, and also incredibly brazen; Remus could not imagine himself talking to anyone like that, ever.

“Wha-?”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

And as Remus leaned in, filled with both anticipation and terror, he could not help but think that this was it, that this was everything he’d always wanted, everything he’d always dreamed of whilst watching Lily and James get married and Sirius’ eyes light up when he talked about Marlene, his only real … real anything, no matter what the rumours said.

“That’s better. No more of this stupid dancing around each other. Just cold, hard truths and love.” It was yet another rash statement from Tonks, and Remus could see that her cheeks were bright red, but this time, he had to agree.

“Just love.”

 


	8. Bleeding Love

_(But something happened_  
For the very first time with you  
My heart melts into the ground  
Found something true)

\--Bleeding Love, Leona Lewis

“Holy Merlin!” Tonks screeches, completely ignoring the fact that her grip has turned Remus’ hand a strange shade of purple. “I am going to _murder_ you!”

Normally, Remus would have been scared of his wife’s statement, especially seeing as, for all her clumsiness, Nymphadora Lupin had a mean aim, but noticing (though it was impossible not to, her screams were magnets, attracting half the hospital with their irascible noise) the state of distress she was in, he thought better of it. Tonks’ body seemed to pulsate, shuddering with the anticipation of delivering this baby.

“Next time, we’re adopting, do you hear me?”

She gives one final push, muscles straining and mouth creased at the corners as she tries not to cry out in anguish or in pain. Remus knows this is a completely irrational time to think of such things, but his heart skips a beat at the fact that she said ‘next time;’ she wants him, and that is nothing sort of liberating when darkness is building walls around you, smothering you.

And then, silence, followed by harsh, rattling breathing that reminds Remus eerily of the Dementors (though there is too much happiness for them here, it would destroy them), and –

“- I can see a head!” the healer cries, ecstasy etched into every crease of her weathered face.

“Holy crap,” Remus says, his words doing nothing more than fading beneath Dora’s deafening roars, “it’s … it’s … it’s …” The words are lodged in his throat, a poisoned apple, and for a second Remus believes in that analogy, because this really is a fairytale.

And then he falters, his chocolate brown eyes fixed upon Tonks’ heart-shaped face, because _what if?_ and _it’s got to be_ and _he can’t be a bloody werewolf._

“It’s a boy,” the healer announces, and Remus’ head spins; he has to sit down.

Sinking into one of those armchairs he knows are just designed for fathers (the word feels funny in his head, like it’s the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle and yet, it just _doesn’t_ quite fit), he watches his wife, sweat dripping from her brow and her eyes glassy.

“We’re bloody magical,” she snaps, “surely there’s a spell for pain relief.” Even in this surreal situation, Remus cannot help but laugh, because he’s put up with her hormonal surges for the last nine months (well, really, it’s only been seven, but he doesn’t dwell on that and neither does she, because this relationship is all about moving forward), and now someone else can deal with her crap.

“So, Dora,” Remus mutters, more to keep himself from going insane over the fact that _he’s_ _a father_ more than anything else, he asks, “what’ll we name him.” He’s slightly less woozy now, and he stumbles over the bed, wrapping and arm around her still shaky body as the healer tiptoes out the door, giving them some time alone.

Gently, Remus caresses his wife’s face; her sweat stains his fingers like ink. And he knows, that no matter what happens in the future, he’ll never love Dora quite as much as he does now, seeing her and their _son_ (he doubts he’ll ever believe it, because it’s so strange, the idea that _Remus Lupin,_ of all people,could be a father), laying there in the bed, her emotions laid out for the world to see.

“I don’t know,” Tonks replies, “let me think.”

It’s a bit early for such decisions, possibly, but as Remus watches Teddy lay in his mother’s arm, so small and so … so fragile, breakable, beautiful, he realises that he has to know. He has to know everything about this child from its gummy smile to its tiny fingers and toes and its milky white skin.

He’s fallen in love again, and this time it’s not with a pink-haired, foul mouthed Auror, but with her – their – son.

**\--**

“ _It’s more real than we think, isn’t it?” Tonks’ voice is soft and lilting, her words mesh easily with the frosty evening air. “Isn’t it?”_

_Remus just nods, shifting slightly in the armchair, threadbare and frayed from so many years of love; it’s been stitched back together countless times with memories. His wife’s pain exudes from her eyes; the deep blue orbs that she’s chosen today are tinged with regret and with shame._

_He loves Andromeda, and he loves her daughter even more, but he really,_ really _hates_ _sitting in this lounge room, pretending that they haven’t just come from a funeral._

“ _Of course it’s real. We wouldn’t be fighting if it were just a dream,” he says finally, staring into the thin tendrils of smoke that spiral from the candle, as though something so ghostlike can hold all the answers he wants._

“ _But … this time, it’s close to us, it’s_ more _real.” Tonks replies, imploring Remus to understand. Surely he, of all people, can understand such utter tragedy._

“ _And yet, to the family of Charity Burbage, or the family of ... I don't know ... Emmeline Vance, our suffering is as real as the idea of the Muggle pig flying. Their deaths never hit us this hard.” He holds out his hand, the embossed scars of his skin tender against her palm as she takes it._

_Tonks nods, her eyes brimming with tears as she registers the unfairness of it all, and fuck, she’s gone past_ grief _and_ insanity _, this isbreaking_ point.

“ _Muggles are naïve; they know nothing of … well, anything really.”_

_Gently, Tonks caresses his palm, and then she lets go, because her father was targeted for being someone she could trust, and if Remus suffers the same fate …_

“ _They aren’t naïve,” he says, “just blind to our world, much like we’re blind to theirs.”_

“ _It doesn’t make any difference though, not in the end. He was everything to me, and he’s gone.” The first teardrop falls, splashing on Tonks’ collar, it melts into her stiff white shirt.  
”Of course it makes a difference,” Remus says, surprised by her defeatist attitude, this is his specialty, and it should never become hers._

“ _But,” Tonks says, her taut as her eyes beseech Remus, “what if … what if it’s the baby -” she rests her hands gently on her swollen stomach “- or worse, what if … what if it’s us.”_

“ _Don’t think like that,” Remus snaps, his harshness seems to penetrate the awful silence between ragged breaths. “Nothing’s going to happen to us.”_

“ _That’s what Mum said when Dad left, and now …” She stops, lost for words._

“ _Your father died because he wouldn’t give in to such prejudice, and if our son turns out anything like him, I couldn’t be happier.”_

“ _I know.”_

**\--**

And as Tonks glances, yet again, at this _miracle,_ she says gently, “Shall we name him Teddy?”

 


	9. A Date

“Come on,” Remus laughs, “tell me.” His hands are taut around his – what is it now? Fifth? Sixth? – Butterbeer, as he begs her with his eyes and his body, leaning into her. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do is probably a more appropriate question,” Tonks replies, her drink dribbling onto her t-shirt as she stutters in response, caught unawares by the lust in his eyes. “I set Snape’s robes on fire, while he was wearing them, mind you, accidentally blew up half a dozen cauldrons, and scorched off one of McGonagall’s eyebrows, all within the first fifteen minutes of class.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, his face is smothered with a knowing smile, and Tonks hates it, because it’s so obvious there’s something he’s not sharing, and yet she can’t hate him for it, because it’s all part of his charm.

“All accidentally of course,” he prompts, and the corners of his mouth twitch spasmodically. “You never intended for such chaos and mayhem to occur.”

“Of course not,” Tonks stutters, taken slightly aback, “I only wanted to make Snape bald, and … possibly cause enough of a disruption so that I could sneak out of class. You have absolutely no idea how torturous double Potions with that … that bat thing … was.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” Remus laughs, “but go on. Why did you sneak out?” He props his chin up with his elbow and takes another long sip from his Butterbeer, continuing to look at Tonks with that sly little smile that could almost be called a leer.

“Why didn’t I sneak out? I followed the secret passageway to Honeydukes – bet you didn’t know about that one, even _I_ only discovered it by accident – bought some Firewhiskey from the Three Broomsticks, and had a party in the common room.”

That irritating smile is still the centerpiece of his face, Tonks notices as she finishes speaking, and just … _bloody hell!_

“What?” she snaps, a little harsher than she intended. “What’s with the subtle little grins?”

“You underestimate me, don’t you?” Remus asks in reply. He grips his Butterbeer tightly and swallows a mouthful of lasagna, his fork clattering against his plate. The place has a shabby aura, he thinks, and she’s so much brighter than this pub- he’d be embarrassed by the dim lighting and table tops that are splattered with smidgens of dirt and week old carrot if they didn’t serve such good food. “I was best friends with Sirius,” he reminds her gently, one eyebrow raised and his hands slowly stretching towards hers …

“I’m his second cousin,” Tonks replies, silently noticing the conflict raging in his eyes as his fingers linger near hers and he taps them against the grimy tabletop. Remus detects her eyes flickering and berates himself for being so scared, it’s _only_ Tonks, the girl he’s been on missions with for the past year and a half, and it’s _only_ a date, it’s not like he’s asking her for her hand in marriage or anything.

Gently, Tonks reaches out and takes his hands, smiling up at Remus. “Or doesn’t blood count for anything?” she quips.

“Of course not. Otherwise Bellatrix Lestrange would be turning into a dog and your mother would have a tendency to cuss a lot.”

His sense of humour is rather refreshing, Tonks decides as he blushes slightly. “Good point, you know. The idea of her as a dog is just … Unless we could turn her into meat and sell her in Korea?”

There’s a second layer of emotion hidden under her words, but neither of them comments on it. Tonks is almost shocked that the idea that they can be this candid about something so serious – they’ve both seen Order members, friends, everyone, fall to this indescribable horror of masks from which cackles issue. And yet, here they are, passing such horrors off as comic relief and ice-breakers.

Maybe it’s the entwined hands and the feel of their flesh against each other’s skin …

Or maybe it’s just a simple rebellion in the form of laughter and love …

“Anyway,” she says, “about Sirius’ influence on your humour …”

“Oh that,” Remus laughs in reply, his hands gripping hers tighter and caressing them. “You burnt Snape’s robes … well, what would you say if you knew I’d died his hair pink, charmed his robes red and gold, tripped him over fifteen times within an hour, _and_ seen him tipped upside down with his underpants showing?”

“No way!”

“It was James Potter, but I was a prefect, and should have stopped him.” Remus can’t believe how casual they are being able this, any more than Tonks could understand why they were being so casual about Death Eaters. Judging by her face, Tonks finds the story hilarious, but now that he’s brought it up, Remus can’t help but remember the embarrassment and the anguish that had occurred for both Snape and himself that day. “Shall we go for a walk?” Remus says, untangling his hands from hers and gesturing towards the door.

As they wander along the path behind the pub, their footsteps the only sound, Remus cannot stop him thinking about that day, nearly twenty years ago, and he turns to Tonks, his voice full of hope.

“Tonks,” he says, “promise me that you’ll never hurt anyone just because you’re in love.”

It’s a stupid request, and he laughs, because he’s spent this whole night in panic and yet he’s acting as though she’s supposed to love him.

“Wha- What are you talking about?”

“Look,” Remus adds, because he cannot stop it weighing on my mind, “that incident I was telling you about, the one with Severus … I’m ashamed of it, okay.” His words begin to flow out in a rush, and it’s only now that he realises that he’s been hiding from this, from it all, for the last twenty years. “I shouldn’t have let him do it, okay. I shouldn’t have let James and Sirius get away with it, and yet now we’re laughing about it. Just promise me, okay. I’ve seen too many innocent people hurt because of love.”

“Okay.” There’s so much more that Tonks wants to say, but in these situations, sometimes less is more. She wraps an arm around Remus’ neck, and places a chaste kiss on his cheek, her lips moving quickly and purposefully across his skin.

It takes both them by shock – this is a first date, surely _this_ is far too early, surely she’s being far too brazen, too reckless – and yet, neither of them care.

They stand still for a moment, with the wind in their hair and the moon illuminating their skin, and they both lean forward, lips poised and plump, and –

“Stupefy!”

**\--**

There’s a flurry of wind and gasps for breath and spells, and Remus wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, if this is penance for that mistake he made all those years ago, the one which he has remembered tonight, allowing it to rip him open and cut him up again. And then he screams, because there’s a jet of green light riding a wave of fury, and it’s heading straight for … straight for Tonks!

“Remus!” Tonks’ frantic shout fills the air, before a hand clamps itself over her mouth, choking her. Blood trickles from Remus’ hand, smearing across her lips; it’s warm on her skin. She knows it’s only a scratch from a branch, only a small pinprick in the brutality that is this fight, but she can smell his blood, and slowly, it’s killing her.

“Shut up, Tonks, okay,” he whispers, because he’s panicking, and she’s panicking, and screaming only makes it worse.

Together, they dive behind the nearest bush, Remus’ hand still smothering Tonks’ face. Her confusion is as loud and obvious as her laboured breathing; it rings in Remus’ ears, deafening him. Curses fly everywhere as hooded figures bear down on them, exposing them.

“ _Stupefy!”_ Remus brandishes his wand, charging the seven Death Eaters that block the only path to freedom and the end of a late night. Tonks groans, she knows she’s anything but rational and sane, but this is their first date, and they’re supposed to be holding hands (or doing something far more horizontal, she’s not _that_ fussy), and walking along Diagon Alley with ice-cream cones in hand, not firing spells at her aunt and her cronies; Bellatrix leers at them, with a sadistic smile that says ‘you won’t come out alive.’

And then her irritation turns to outright panic, because _what the bloody hell is Remus doing charging down Death Eaters?_

“Remus,” she yells, “Remus!” Her voice escapes in a cloud of anger, deafening her.

“What do we have here?” Bellatrix Lestrange asks, indicating Remus, who has stopped short as reality finally catches up with adrenalin, and Tonks, who is poking her head out from behind a bush, just waiting for the right moment to fire a stunning spell.

Remus doesn’t answer, a grin smile marring his face.

“It’s your niece,” a random Death Eater cackles, and heck, he reminds Tonks of death, what with that harsh, raspy voice and pointed wand.

“I don’t have a niece.” Tonks knows her aunt recognises her, but they avoid eye contact, each infinitely more fascinated by the bush that separates those stripping away facades and exposed souls. They have the same eyes, hidden beneath the same deep brown lashes, and yet Tonks’ fear is stark against the hatred and the ruthless determination and the psychosis that graces Bellatrix.

“Of course not.” There’s this fierce power about her, this silent ability to send even the strongest Death Eater tearing for cover.

“Out fighting for the Boy who Lies, are we? Or is this something a little more … intimate? Am I interrupting?”

Tonks can feel Remus straining against her, his body taut and his wand at eye level as he fights the urge to clear the bush and commit bloody murder. His blood pulses through his veins, they bite at his skin and stretch it, and Tonks places a hand in his sandy brown hair, pushing him down. It’s so animalistic, and so wild, and it scares her, almost as much as the leering woman in front of her.

It wasn’t Azkaban that sent Bellatrix Lestrange wild, Tonks realises, it was this irrational, insane, soul-consuming love of the fight.

“Of course not,” Remus replies. “We were just heading home.”

“Home?” Bellatrix scoffs, her voice holds a patronising tone; her words are a cocktail, a sweet desire with poison etched around the rim. “You don’t mean to the blood traitor’s house, do you? The dear man who was once my cousin.”

“Of course not,” Remus repeats again, defiant in the face of danger, and so much affection surges through Tonks that she’s in danger of choking on.

“Cru -”

**\--**

“No!” Tonks screams, instinctively whipping out her wand, she can almost feel all these unadulterated emotions – there’s been so many of them tonight – pouring into it through her fingertips.

“You bitch!” She charges at her aunt, her eyes – a pearly grey today – wide with a potent mixture of fear and absolute fury, and there’s an unexplainable rush as she waves her wand wildly around; she shoots several curses, not even bothering to wait and see if they hit their targets.

Stop, Tonks’ mind demands finally, and she skids to a stop, almost colliding with Bellatrix.

“Go,” is the simple demand. “Go, or your werewolf gets it.”

“No!” Tonks screeches, staring helplessly at Remus, who gives her an infinitesimal nod.

“Go,” he whispers, “I love you Tonks, now go. I can handle it. Go.” There’s a fierce longing in his words, a longing for her, her love, and, most of all, for her to be safe, but it barely registers as Tonks takes off into the forest, wondering how the hell she got into this mess in the first place.

As she begins to pick up speed, all she can hear are Remus’ screams, echoing through the night behind her.

**\--**

Tonks stumbles through the forest, tree roots winding around her ankles and fear wrapping around her heart. An icy breeze whistles through the trees, submerging her in its depths. She’s got to get back, back to Remus, she’s known that from the moment she left.

Instinctively, Tonks tightens her grip; she’s done this plenty of times, she never became an Auror for the eye candy or the free tea – though having Remus for a mission partner certainly does have its benefits – but this time, there’s more at stake, she’s alone in the forest, and Remus … she can’t bear to ponder his fate.

The trees loom over her, throwing shadows across her path. The moon (it’s nearly full, and Remus will have to go through _that_ soon) illuminates the rough ground. Crude paths of dirt intersect each other like a maze, and sticks crumble beneath her sandals – bloody hell she wishes she had her boots right now – as she wanders about blindly, too afraid to cast _Lumos._

She feels as though she’s the prey in a hunt she can’t control, every shifting shadow unnerves her, every crackling leaf and hooting owl sends her hand flying towards the breast pocket of her coat. Vaguely, she imagines Remus, crimson blood soaking his only decent (and still undoubtedly shabby) jacket, staining the fabric and oozing through his memories.

If first impressions _really_ do count, all this date has done is prove to Nymphadora Tonks that, at this rate, she’s going to be dead before she hits thirty.

This is their first date, supposed to end with passionate kisses and ice-cream cones – or a few glasses of Firewhiskey and something altogether more horizontal, Tonks isn’t fussy – and yet, here she is, standing blindly in the middle of the forest, with aching feet crammed into high heels and a heavy heart.

It’s stupid. Stupid and insane and pathetically stupid, _and why the hell did she wear high heels with her second best Weird Sisters t-shirt anyway?_ She knows the answer: she wanted to shock, to make an impression, because even though _she_ knows that this is the _real thing,_ she wants Remus to feel the same tingle in his spine when his eyes caress her and her fingertips brush gently against his skin.

Tonks stumbles towards the moonlight, changing her locks to a less conspicuous – but much more reminiscent of Bellatrix Lestrange – shade of brown as she walks. Their resemblance may be uncanny, but Tonks just laughs at the irony of it all, they’re nothing alike. Somewhere along the path, she throws her shoes at the nearest bush, her heels bleeding staunchly and murdering her slowly, and then she walks some more.

Remus’ name burns so brightly on her lips that she’s surprised she hasn’t attracted attention yet, what with that and all the stumbling and the fact that she’s carrying a pointy stick in an area full of naïve Muggles. Fear is caught in her throat, choking her, as she walks. And walks. And walks.

Eventually, she appears in the clearing.

**\--**

Tonks blinks rapidly, flashes of blood red and electric green blind her; the spells and their colours smear themselves across her eyelids.

She hears him shout her name between his agitated shakes, she can see Bellatrix’s wand bobbing up and down, attached to those deathly white fingers like a parasite. And yet, all she can do is feel utter relief at the fact that he’s alive, he hasn’t succumbed… yet.

She can almost feel his pain, and fuck this, fuck Bellatrix; she’s going to _murder her._ For what seems like the umpteenth time tonight, she charges forward, wand raises and full of fury.

“Cru -”

“You’ve got to mean it, m'dear,” Bellatrix drawls, her sunken face seems to glow with amusement as she flicks her wand slowly upward, sending Remus into yet another round of silent spasms – he’s learnt that crying in pain only makes Bellatrix more ruthless – and giving Tonks’ a patronising stare. Behind her, the other Death Eaters stand guard, an impenetrable wall of black. For a moment, Tonks wonders why they haven’t just been hung, drawn and quartered, and then she realises, this is Bellatrix Lestrange at her finest: playing with her kill first.

They have to get out.

Just as Tonks turns to face Remus, there’s a flash of bright lights – she shields her eyes, a booming voice and “Tonks, go. Now!”

Behind her she can hear Kingsley and Emmeline and several other Order members apparating. She has no idea how they got here, but she’s eternally grateful as they begin to fire spells, quickly driving the enemy away.

“Tonks, don’t go,” Kingsley snaps this time, just as she’s spinning on her foot and beginning to apparate. She gives him a quizzical look, most of the Death Eaters have fled, but he’s still battling Bellatrix Lestrange, she can barely make either of them out, behind the flashes and the bangs and the curses. “Take Remus to St Mungos instead.”

Tonks nods wildly, her throat is far too dry to utter a single word, and reaches for Remus with weary arms.

“Come on,” she says gently, “we’re going.”

She ducks a curse and then another and another, and they’re gone, trading fear and dark forests for sterile white floors and a chance to relax.

**\--**

“I nearly did it, you know,” Tonks says, completely focused on the weathered, scarred man trapped in the bed beside her. She shifts her weight in the chair, her short, stumpy fingernails almost clawing at Remus’ skin in her desperation to touch him. “I nearly blasted the living daylights out of her, because I was so worried about you, but I remembered what you said, and I … I couldn’t.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The silence between them is amicable, for sure, and yet Remus cannot stop wondering what words he needs to bridge the gap between them. Tonks is perched in the tiny bedside chair; he can see the indents the slats are making in her creamy skin, and while she seems perfectly comfortable, he doesn’t understand any of this.

It’s not a big surprise, because lately confusion and Tonks seem to coexist – one cannot survive with out the other – and yet, he’s drowning in a series of words he will not utter. He feels like the blankets are suffocating him, so he wriggles out them, taking Tonks’ hand in his own.

“Are we going to do this again?” he asks with a nonchalant wave of his hand. It’s the first question that makes any sense.

“Of course. Only, next time, what do you say we go somewhere a little more private?”

 


	10. A Beginning and An Ending

The first thing he notices is that it’s bright. Shards of sunlight pierce his eyes as he calls out, his voice reaching into the distance like a pair of hands grasping for something that cannot be seen.

“Dora,” Remus bellows, “are you here?”

_Wherever here is,_ that’s the logical progression, because all he knows is that he’s in a field, and that the air is crisp; he can feel the wind whistling through his clothing, rustling the bottoms of his trousers and his hair.

“Dora,” he tries again, “Dora!”

He listens intently, but there’s nothing except a haunting silence. He takes a few ginger steps forward, trying to figure out _when and where and how,_ because he has no recollection of how he got here to this land of rolling hills and green –

\- green, he remembers that. He remembers flashes of light and searing pain and a hollow pit of emptiness, before falling, and landing _here._  
Remus takes another step, and another, much like a baby learning to walk – oh crap, Teddy, what has happened to him? – and slowly, the pieces fall into place; he waits for the euphoria of success to wash over him, and yet it’s only more of that emptiness.

He’s dead. And that means that Dora shouldn’t, won’t, can’t be here.

Stumbling forward another few steps, Remus realises that he’s actually on the edge of a precipice; he can feel his heart drop into his stomach as sharply as the rocks plunge down to the ground below.

“Dora,” he calls yet again, ignoring how fruitless and insane it is.

“Yes, Remus.”

**\--**

They stumble along together, hands entwined and destinies written on the same page. For a fleeting second, Remus thinks she should be sad – his body wracked with strident tears even – but instead, he feels nothing but the warmth of her palm in his and hears nothing but the steady rhythm of her heart.

“Why are you here?” he asks finally, “you didn’t -”

“Didn’t die, you mean?” she says with all her typical enthusiasm, the sun shining on perfect white teeth – one of the many advantages of being a Metamorphagus – and her glittering brown eyes. “Of course I died, but I gave that bitch what she deserved first.” For a moment, there’s silence, and then Remus speaks again.

“You’re so … so nonchalant.”

“Well, what else am I meant to be? A whinging, cynical, depressed idiot. I’m sorry, but that’s a role reserved for you.”

“And one I fill with pleasure.” They’ve been joking about this for months now, their laughter spurred on by a futile search for something, _anything_ to avoid the war that lingered at their doorstep, and it almost makes him sick that they’re still doing it _now._

Silence isn’t a concern for them as they continue to walk, because Remus knows that now, Tonks is here with him, and he can’t be sorry anymore. He feels a small tinge as he thinks of his son, gurgling happily in his cot, remembers the sweetness of the milky tea he drank with his mother every Tuesday afternoon. All those normal things, and yet they feel like an age ago.

**\--**

The field stretches on for eternity, Remus thinks.

**\--**

Finally they reach the edge of the meadow, each absorbed in their own thoughts of life and death and _what’s going to happen next?_ The cliff is next to them, an eternal drop into a pit of Merlin knows what. It’s all yellow sunshine and green grass and blue sky – the sort of perfection you only usually see in paintings.

“How do we cross?”

Tonks lets out a chuckle, immediately stifling it with a fist in her mouth, but her reaction is too slow, and Remus’ notices her sense of hilarity.

“Why are you laughing?” he questions her, confused, because today, tonight, whenever it is in the grand scheme of things, she’s been the quiet one, brooding and mourning, and he thinks she hasn’t quite adjusted to _this_ yet.

“You’re so … you. You’ve always been the practical one, and I’ve always had my head in the clouds. I guess it’s nice to know that some things haven’t changed, when everything else has.”

**\--**

What feels like eternity passes, in a rush of emotion. Suddenly, Remus feels like he’s suspended in the air, two worlds crashing together underneath him like a wave bashing mercilessly against the silent shore.

“I’ve figured it out,” he says, as though it’s nothing more than the crossword in Sunday’s Daily Prophet or a particularly difficult charm he’s finally managed to master, without the help of his friends.

“Master Moony,” Dora teases, biting back the question that follows – are there full moons in heaven? – “Master Moony has solved the riddle.”

“Thanks Dora.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, stretching up on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Anyway, we have to jump.”

**\--**

“Jump?” she echoes in disbelief, her eyes as round as saucers and her mouth even fuller.

Remus nods solemnly, even though he’s so worried that he’s surprised his heart hasn’t escaped its chains and burst through his ribcage yet. “Jump.”

When he thinks about it, everything makes perfect sense. It’s the perfect test of faith, the perfect way to see who’s ready, and who’s not. He never expected Death to be this harsh and his cruel, but then again, a lot of things today have been unexpected.

“You’re kidding me,” Dora splutters. “We have to jump … _down there.”_

Together, they lean over the cliff, clinging to each others shirts and hair and limbs in an attempt to stay balanced as the wind continues to whistle. Remus can feel the grass brushing at his ankles, and he shakes his feet in a hasty endeavor to remove the tickling sensation. It’s so jagged, so far from the perfection of the field they’ve just spent hours traipsing through. Rocks jut out from the cliff face like daggers, and for all the times he’s been stabbed in the back throughout his lifetime, he can’t help but wonder if this one will hurt the most.

“Together,” he says finally. “We’re jumping together.” A single glance at her face reveals that she’s as scared as he is, and somehow, that makes his ultimate decision all the more easier.

Gently, he takes her hand in his, first gracing it with his eyes, his lips, his soul. And then he smothers it completely with his body heat, beginning to count.

“One, two, three!”

There’s a moment of suspension in which Remus thinks _oh crap, this was a bad idea, oh crap, we’re going to die, even if we’re already …_ and then …

“Moony!” shouts an achingly familiar voice, even if it’s been two years since he last heard it.

**\--**

They’re home.

 


End file.
